


Percival's Heart

by QuietArtemis



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Misunderstandings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-26
Updated: 2019-01-26
Packaged: 2019-10-16 21:30:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17553566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuietArtemis/pseuds/QuietArtemis
Summary: Newt thinks Graves is uncaring, cold and an asshole. It's even worse when he finds out this man is supposed to keep threstrals! Absolutely livid at the idea of Graves keeping any creatures, Newt goes to the man's home to save the poor threstrals.But is Percival Graves as heartless as he seems to be?





	Percival's Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Before you read this, I hightly recommend reading this article on threstrals by J. K. Rowling herself: https://www.pottermore.com/writing-by-jk-rowling/thestrals   
> I strongly support the headcanon that the Graves family has keen interest in these creatures due to their relation to death. In short, Rowling explains how it's not just seeing death that allows one to see threstrals, but understanding what death means. And who would understand death better than a clan of aurors? Since it's not said it had to be a human's death to make it possible for a person to see them, I imagine most of young Graves were able to see threstrals, including Percival. Newt sees them because he saw plenty of death during war as well as when he rescued and cared for his creatures.

  "Permits, Scamander!" Graves hollered, frustrated. "I told you already you need permits for everything you have in that bloody case of yours!"

Newt sat in the chair, clutching his case nervously. He looked anywhere but the director. He avoided the other's gaze ot out of shyness but because he knew he'd glare at the other. There was no need to escalate the conflict, especially when the magizoologist knew he's in the wrong, just being too proud to admit it.

"Yes, sir. I will fill out the forms," Newt muttered, feeling blood rush to his cheeks.

Graves sighed heavily, leaning back in his chair. He rested head on his hand as though he was having a migrene. Which he did and no thanks for that to one Newton Scamander.

"And keep your bloody creatures inside the case. This is the last fucking time my aurors needed to waste their fucking time, chasing your niffler," he muttered, anger lacing his voice. "They need their wands and their watches. And don't get me even start on the cursed objects they deal with! It's bad enough your thieving pest steals everything in his sight! Do I need to tell you what could happen if he touched one of the cursed items? What would happen to my aurors, you or him?"

 "W-well... if your aurors had less bejewelled wands, then..." Newt mumbled out, trying to defend his creature weakly.

"A wizard doesn't choose his wand. Wand chooses him," Percival said, shooting down the argument. "I will not ask my aurors to change their wands. Theirs and other people's life depend on them. I won't allow my aurors to carry unstable wands just because you can't keep your bloody creature locked in your case."

Newt nodded. He was angry, but he knew Graves was right. His own brother was an auror, after all, and so he knew how dangerous, difficult and stressful their job was. An auror's wand ensured people's safety and needed to be cared for.

"I'm sorry, director Graves," he mumbled. "It won't happen again."

"See to it that it doesn't," Percival said, sharply, but the anger was gone, it seemed. "Get that lock fixed. Today. I will ask Goldstein to accompany you and make sure you do that."

The magizoologist nodded again and left the office without a goodbye.

 

* * *

 

"He hates me. Hates my creatures," Newt groaned as he and Tina walked to find a locksmith and fix his case. On their way there, they bought some donuts to cheer themselves up after a long day at MACUSA.

"Oh, I don't think he hates you. Trust me, you'd know," Tina said with her mouth full. "And he doesn't hate your creatures. The Graves are well-known threstral breeders in America. I know he has a few of them in his estate."

The magizoologist frowned at that. The man so sharp and cold was incapable of caring for any living being. Newt dreaded to think how he'd treat his threstrals.

"Is that so?" Newt ask, feigning a pleased surprise. "Where does he live? I'd love to see the threstrals. I've never had one under my care."

Goldstain smiled, thinking it might be a good circumstance to fix whatever feud is going on between the two. She was good friends with Newt, but Graves was her boss, her mentor, and someone she had a lot of respect and admiration for. She didn't like the way her friend talked about the director.

"Oh, it's just outside the city. I will write you down the address. I'm sure he will tell you all about the threstrals."

Newt accepted the slip of paper with a smile, but beneath his soft expression boiled the determination to save the creatures from the horrible man Graves was.

 

* * *

 

The door to Graves' estate was opened by an old house elf wearing imeccable black sheet around his body, looking almost like an elegant robe. The elf looked as stern as his master, staring at Newt with his huge, glossy eyes.

"Yes?" the creature asked, nearly glaring at the uninvited guest at the mansion's door.

"I'd like to see Mr Graves. It's a work-related issue," Newt stuttered out. He was a poor liar, so bending the truth was his best option.

The elf didn't seem to buy it one bit, though. The magizoologist saw him frowning just a little bit. He inhaled soundly as though he was about to deny Newt entry, but changed his mind in the last second. Something akin to a smirk appeared on the house elf's lips. "Of course. He's at the stables. Please, follow me."

Scamander didn't know what to make of the strange exchange he just had, but followed the elf nonetheless. Graves' house was huge and elegant. It lacked the same cozy feeling, though, that Newt's own home had. Clearly, it had an aura of being lived in by a lonely person.

Newt pointedly ignored the lurch he felt in his heart at the thought. 

The Graves estate's grounds were huge. Scamander looked around in no small amount of awe. He knew the director was descendant of an old, wealthy family and this mansion was probably inherited, but still...

To think, Graves lived there alone, looking after it once his family left, made Scamander just a little bit sad. There was no reason for the auror to live there, except to keep the memories and nostalgia the house offered. It was way too big for one person to live there comfortably and not feel painfully lonely.

He was snapped out of his reverie by a shrill, loud cry of a threstral.

"Right this way," the elf said, undoubtly noticing Newt's worried expression, even though he didn't bother mentioning it.

The magizoologist nearly ran to see what was happening. He knew Graves was not a man to look after a creature. He knew it! Whatever compassion he might have felt for the director was gone now. He had no mercy for abusers.

When they finally reached the stables, Newt was greeted by a sight he didn't expect to see.

A heavily pregnant threstral was lying on the ground, undoubtly giving birth. Graves knelt beside her, gently rubbing her belly and trying to calm the creature down. Newt barely recognized the man who now looked so different. The director's hair was not slicked back, but let loose, hiding half of the handsome face. He was not in his suit either, wearing only plain, cotton shirt and woolen pants. Black shoes were exchanged for worn-out boots. He looked more like a stable man than the proud director Newt always saw him as.

He looked quite dashing like this, Newt thought to himself, trying to figure out what to say. He opened his mouth, but the elf addressed Graves first.

"Master Percival," the creature said, making the director look up at both of them. "This man said he wanted to see you about a work-related issue."

Graves' prominent eyebrow quirked up questioningly at Newt.

"Oh, um-... yes. Yes." the magizoologist stuttered, trying to look away from the piercing, black eyes. "You asked me to change the locks on my suitcase and I, um. I did. As you said."

"Is that all you wanted to do?" the director asked, amused.

"W-well... I. I-..." he stuttered again, feeling blood rushing to his cheeks. "Yes?"

He heard a snort. Undoubtly, Graves didn't believe his lie even a little bit.

"You truly want me to believe you came all the way here to show me a fixed lock, and not, I don't know... check if I'm not mistreating creatures here?" the other man asked. Deep, dark eyes looked in Newt's own. Graves' gaze was so intense, the magizoologist felt like the other man was able to see his very soul.

Scamander had no answer that wouldn't sound like a poor lie, so he looked down at his own shoes, blushing fiercely.

"Do you see any threstrals being mistreated here, Mr Scamander?" Graves asked sharply, sounding offended with the notion.

Newt looked around. The stables were clean and spacious. There were five threstrals in total, including the female giving birth. All of them looked healthy and beautiful. Soft, yet intelligent glowing eyes looked at him curiously. There was no sign of abuse at all. In fact, they seemed very well tended to. They didn't even seem frightened to see a stranger. Normally, threstrals were very shy around humans. The director must've spent a lot of time with them to make them be so trusting.

"N-no..." Newt said quietly. "I-... I'm sorry."

Graves sighed. The house elf disappeared somewhere, Newt realized, leaving the two of them alone. Scamander stood there awkwardly, unsure what else to say.

The silence was broken by another cry, coming from the threstral.

"There, there, my beautiful girl..." Graves cooed, petting the threstral slowly. "Come on, it's time for the baby to come out. Shh... I've got you..."

"Do you need any help?" Newt asked.

"Oh, no, we're fine so far. The baby is in proper position, but the momma here is a little scared. It's her first pregnancy. You can stay, though, if you'd like," the director offered, focused on the threstral. Scamander watched Graves pet the creature soothingly. With another cry, the creature started to push.

 

* * *

 

 

Newt stayed and watched the miracle of birth unfold. He felt for the mother to be in so much pain, but he the baby would reward her suffering. It took way over an hour for her to deliver a healthy colt. She ended up needing Graves' help and the magizoologist was surprised to see how efficiente the director was. Clearly, it wasn't the first time the other man did this.

"My family breeds them," he explained, noticing Newt's surprised expression. With a spell, Graves cleaned the blood off him. "I was raised, tending to them from a very young age."

"I didn't know your family had any interest in them," Scamander said, frowning a little.

"Oh, you know... It's a three centuries long tradition. Apparently, one of my ancestors took it as the opportunity to make a joke. Death, Graves, threstrals, see? All connected. And since we are a family of aurors, they seemed like perfect companions." the director said with a little smile, playing on his lips. "Please, call me Percival, by the way."

"Oh, then call me Newt," the magizoologist nodded. "I'm so sorry I thought so ill of you."

Smile on Percival's face turned a little grim now.

"It's fine, mistakes happen," the other man shrugged, but Newt could tell he was affected still. "I know I don't make an impression of a caring man."

Newt swallowed audibly, feeling guilt stabbing at his heart.

"Oh, no, I know you care, but... I twisted my perception of you just to be mad. You made valid points in your office, I knew it back them and I know it now," he admitted. "I wanted to prove you're a bad person, just to make myself feel justified in my anger and stop thinking of my mistakes."

Percival nodded, muttering that it was okay. It wasn't.

"Would you like something to drink? It's quite chilly outside and we spent a long time in the stables," Graves offered. Newt agreed, accepting it as an olive branch. 

Much to his surprise, Percival made tea by himself. Newt didn't see the house elf anywhere after they came back to the house. The two of them sat in the kitchen and magizoologist observed the auror prepare their drink. It was good. Not like at home, but it was good.

"Brew it a little longer next time and it will be perfect" Newt said. "Still, it's very nice. The best I had since I left China."

"Thanks," Graves said with a smile. He looked so beautiful like this that it made the magizoologist's heart stutter. Newt looked away, blushing. He heard the other man chuckling quietly.

"What's so funny?" Scamander asked quietly, shyly peeking at Percival from behind his cup.

"Oh, nothing. Nothing at all," the director said, still grinning. "You're just very cute when you blush."

Newt choked on his tea, coughing as his face reddened in embarassment.

"Sorry. Are you okay now?" Percival asked, suddenly appearing at his side and looking worried. Newt felt a warm hand on his shoulder. The heat of the other's touch was radiating through his whole body.

"Y-... Yes. I just didn't expect you to call me, um... cute," the magizoologist confessed, feeling his cheeks still warm. Those deep, dark eyes looked at him with such intensity it was difficult to look away. Newt shifted his gaze to the other's lips instead and realized his mistake a little too late. The director's lips looked smooth and soft. Kissable, one could say. None of this escaped Percival's attention, it seemed, as the corners of that mouth quirked upwards.

"You are very cute," the director said, making Newt look in his eyes again. "I'm sorry I was so harsh ealier. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. I was disheartened when I realized afterwards it crossed out any chances of me approaching you about a date or just a friendly coffee together."

The magizoologist's heart fluttered in his chest. Usually, beautiful people didn't approach him romantically and he'd lie to himself if he said that Percival Graves was one of the most handsome men he's ever seen.

"Oh..." Newt whispered. "I think you're very beautiful. And yes, I was angry, but you were right and I should've known better. I'd have forgiven you after the anger passed. I don't think it crossed out your chances either."

Percival looked at him silently, looking relieved and happy. It was such a soft expression that the magizoologist barely kept himself from kissing Graves.

"Would you like to go for a date with me?" the director asked and Newt nodded eagerly. He didn't expect Percival to smile so brightly nor what this smile would do to him. "Have a coffee, maybe?"

"I prefer tea," Newt said quietly, swept away by the other's smile. Graves laughed and it was such a wonderful sound! He wished he'd make the other laugh like this more often.

"Tea it is, then," Percival nodded, still chuckling.

"We just had tea," Scamander pointed out, much to the other man's amusement.

"Are you suggesting we just had a first date?" Graves asked, grinning.

Newt nodded, blushing a little. It was silly to suggest that in the first place, but the best he could do was to commit to it now.

"Would you go with me for another?" Percival asked, his voice soft and breathy. Scamander realized the director's face was suddenly so close to his own... So temptingly close. He nodded his head again. Newt's hands rested on the other man's shoulders before Graves could pull away. He slowly moved them below the director's neck and kissed him.

The kiss was short and hesitant, but felt so good. Percival's lips were even softer and smoother than they looked, the magizoologist mused.

"S-sorry... That was very forward," Newt stuttered out, blushing. He wanted to pull away, but Graves' own hands kept him from moving.

"You can make it up to me with another one," Percival said, smirking. The magizoologist pouted, thinking for a moment he's being made fun of, but Graves just patiently waited for the second kiss. Newt relaxed and pressed his lips to Percival's once more. This time, the kiss was longer, more explorative and sweet.

 

* * *

 

 

Newt stayed the night that time. And the next night, and the one after that as well. He told the Goldstein sisters he'd stay with Percival to learn more about the threstrals, but his poor exuse earned him perfectly synchronized snorts and eyerolls.

"You might want to cover the hickey on your neck, honey," Queenie said, grinning mischievously at him. "Or not! Graves surely would like everyone to see his claim on you, you know? He's a possessive man and... oh, my... I see he's quite a beast himself, isn't he? No wonder you prefer sleeping at his house..."

"Stop reading my thoughts!" Newt shouted, painfully embarassed and blushing bright red. He couldn't even deny Queenie's claim. The legilimens surely knew all about their sex life now which was very humiliating. He walked off to Percival's office, hearing his friends giggle delightfully at his reaction.

Percival greeted him with soothing embrace and peppered his face with soft kisses. How could he ever think this man incapable of love and care when Graves heart was overflowing with them, Newt had no idea. He never doubted Percival again and quickly grew to understand that the man's harsh exterior was a necessity. His aurors did stupid things often and Graves was mad because he cared and worried about them and other people getting hurt.

Percival also turned out to be great not just with threstrals but with other creatures as well. In fact, Newt was pretty sure the niffler preferred Graves over him now.

The magizoologist snorted softly at his own thoughts. He buried his face against the director's chest, listening to the man's heartbeat.

"You are one of the most loving and caring people I've ever met," Newt whispered quietly. Percival didn't say anything, just kissed his the top of his head.

From that day on, neither one of them doubted Percival's heart.

 

 


End file.
